Chapter 51: From Workshop to Battlefield — A Tale of Gears, Guts & Growth
Part I: November 1982 — A Humble Beginning
The scent of burnt metal and solder drifted through the warehouse near Singh Technologies HQ. Over the din of welding, a small group of engineers huddled together, whispering excitedly around a canvas-draped frame. Ajay walked in, rattling his keychain against the wooden door.
"Beta!" Meiant Singh, the head engineer, greeted him. His dark spectacles sparkled when he smiled. "The boy's here. Bharat, you've got to see this."
Six-year-old Bharat scampered forward in brown shorts and a faded T-shirt. He peered at the covered prototype. With a nod from Ajay, someone pulled the canvas.
Under the cloth lay what looked like a rugged box: matte olive green, reinforced edges, a thick telescoping antenna, and a large speaker grill.
"Portable field radio," Bharat guessed. "But it has extra connectors."
"Spot on," said Mehta, another engineer. "This one combines comms with a small light—built on a shared NiCd battery pack."
An ex-serviceman with silver hair stroked his chin. "The British Army used to haul separate radios and lanterns. Combine them, and you free a soldier's hands. But the casing must survive sand, heat, water."
Bharat squinted. "Use rubber gaskets, like camera lenses. Add a silicon seal."
Mehta paused, surprised. "Rubber… That's smart."
Ajay patted his son's shoulder. "We're here to make real tools, not toys."
Beneath the hum of conversation, small talk and laughter blossomed:
Meiant teased Bharat about his messy hair.
The ex-serviceman shared a story about a rainy night march in Nagaland.
Engineers joked about polishing boots or redesigning hotplates for staff tea breaks.
That evening, Ajay gave Bharat a new notebook. "Your inventions belong here," he said.
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Part II: July 1983 — Field Tests & Friendly Jabs
July. Monsoon. The earth was soft.
At a nearby army base outside Lucknow, Singh's team of four officers arrived with crate after crate of radios, lights, and prototypes. The ground was muddy; some engineers slipped and laughed.
Over chawal and dal in the mess tent, Major Kapoor looked at the console radio in his hand.
"This looks heavy."
Verma, younger and earnest, scribbled. "4.5 kilos with batteries. We'll trim the weight."
A voice from behind: "Trim something else—your socks!" That was Captain Singh, pulling at the other engineer's oversize socks. Laughter echoed.
Later, tests began:
1. Range Test: Over the neem grove, officers used these radios to communicate. The engineer followed, recording distance and clarity.
"Clear signal at 600 meters, even with interference. That's half a kilometer beyond our mark," the radio officer reported.
2. Rain Test: They sprayed the unit with a hose, stuck it in dusty ground. Then turned it on. Still worked.
3. Helmet Light Test: Batteries clipped on steel helmets. The multi-focal beam lit 10 meters ahead even on pitch-black nights.
Thankfully, fewer casualties. Except one minor twist—Verma tripped and dipped the battery in mud.
"They're NiCd. Not magic," Mehta muttered, but everyone laughed.
Between tests, they shared tea—sweet, milky, with a hit of crushed green masala—amidst rambling chat about cricket, family, and whether Bihar's roads were worse than UP's.
After six days, they regrouped for a debrief.
Captain Singh recommended adding a latch to battery compartments—they'd flown open during a sprint.
He also wanted a multi-band design to reduce enemy interception.
Verma scribbled, "Latch + band tuning" on a grease-stained piece of paper.
When all reports were submitted, Major Kapoor grinned. "Boys, this is good. Very good. But can you make a version that carries two radios in tandem—one for comms, one for encrypted signal?"
Ajay took a breath. "That's our next target."
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Part III: October 1983 — Sealing the Deal
By October, trenches had been dug, cables laid, and blueprints filed. Engineers polished prototypes until lenses glowed, casings stood firm, and antennas clicked into place.
On a crisp morning, Colonel Iyer from the Infantry Corps commander team arrived with assistance. Rain had stopped, and couriers on motorbikes delivered coffee steaming in steel tumblers.
The team brought the first production units: 250 boxed radios with headsets, belt-clip NiCd packs, helmet lights, and surpluses.
Colonel Iyer flicked the switch.
Lights glowed, signals crackled, static rose—but stayed within tolerable range.
He turned to Ajay. "This is truly yours now."
Flashbulbs went off. This was more than a ceremony—it felt like planting a flag on new territory.
Over chai, Colonel told stories of soldiers in desert storms and mountain lands, needing reliable gear.
"5,000 units," Ajay murmured.
"We'll deliver," Colonel replied.
The deal was printed, stamped, and framed. Singh Analysts dated it October 22, 1983.
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Part IV: April 1984 — Innovation Grows in Real Time
The old warehouse had expanded. High ceilings now saw fans spinning steadily; benches bristled with tools; a dusty sand chamber sat in one corner for durability tests; radiant bulbs inside a heated box simulated tropical days; and a complex rig cracked radios under shock testing.
This spring, they tackled a new challenge: the Field Surveillance Camera.
It used 8 mm tape.
It had rubberized wheels for shifting terrain.
Infrared LEDs lit at night (a novelty).
A battery pack used the same NiCd stack.
Switches were sealed in silicone.
It had a weak zoom—a commendable feature in 1984 India.
Major Kapoor dropped into April 1984 for tests in a rain-soaked mock village.
The camera survived a plunge in ankle-deep water; it recorded grainy but usable night footage. The brigade commander nodded, impressed.
"Imagine combining this with your comms," he said. "Field ops," he tapped the camera lens, "can change."
Warned of impending noise, Ajay wondered: What next?
Major Kapoor summed it up:
"Your gear? Earth-moving, planet-shaking. Not toys. Make it smaller. More silent. And we want wave encryption."
Verma scrawled, "Mini cam. Noise dampening. Mancook encryption." (Mancook—military shorthand for manual coding system.)
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Part V: Small Talk That Builds Big Bonds
During long midday breaks, army officers teased engineers about being "desk soldiers."
Engineers recounted how their cricket team cleaned up in the local league.
One sergeant discussed the upcoming Ramzan on base. The team donated supplies and joined in.
Several cups of stale chai were downed, laughter filled the hall, and engineers found that camaraderie—in every sense—bridges gaps and builds trust.
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Part VI: August 1984 — Reflecting on Growth
Present. Monsoon 1984.
Back at the family courtyard, Ajay sat with Bharat at his feet, the sky dark but no longer stormed.
"Remember the NiCd failures?" Ajay asked.
"Spent three nights rebaking cells," Bharat replied, eyes distant.
"And the latch?"
"I said we should use spring-loaded clamps."
Ajay stretched and kissed his son's head.
"Your suggestions saved time—and grants."
"We still have the camera to finalize," Bharat grinned.
"I have ideas."
Together, they turned to view the prototypes lined neatly on a makeshift shelf—radios, lights, cameras, and encrypted headsets. Each item had a name, date, and field note tucked beside it.
By the stable gate, a new crate was being prepared—destined for Pune, where insurgent regiments were requesting field trials.
Ajay rose.
"Tomorrow, I meet with the Defence Procurement Committee. You're coming."
Bharat hopped up.
"I'll take my notebook."
Two engineers in wet-weather jackets carried another camera across the courtyard—branded: Singh Army Systems.
And in the courtyard lights, Ajay whispered:
"Not toys."
"Tools," Bharat corrected.
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